


Spider Dance

by NotYourDamsel



Category: Naruto
Genre: AKA Team Where Everybody Dies, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Other Love Languages, As Well As The Shiburames, But Hell Should I Know Where It Starts And Where It Ends, Canon-Typical Violence, Chakra Bullshit, Chouza Best Boi, Clan Politics, Existential Crisis, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Gift Giving, He means well but, Het, Inoichi Is Like Ino As A Kid, Jiraiya - Freeform, Language, Laws Are Meant To Be Broken, M/M, Minato’s era, Ninja Bullshit, No Beta We Die Like Hashirama, No Hashirama You Cannot Seal Bijuus And Hand Them Out Like Candy, Or Will Die In Canon, Physics Is Dead, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, Reincarnation, Sarutobi Needs A Vibe Check, Second Shinobi War, Shimura Danzo The Creep, Somebody Save Murasakiko, Team 4 - Freeform, Team Dynamics, The Akimichis Deserve More Love, Ugh, War And Its Shit, Yaoi, Yuri, and a reality check, and nothing can convince me otherwise, and some romance too, botched reincarnation, identity crisis, need i say more?, offensive language, platonic everything - Freeform, some character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYourDamsel/pseuds/NotYourDamsel
Summary: Murasakiko has always loved Muffet, so is it any surprise that he recreated her strings with chakra AKA the miracle energy in the fictional world he’d been reborn to?
Relationships: Akimichi Chouza/Original Female Character(s), Hatake Sakumo/Original Female Character(s), Hyuuga Hiashi/Original Female Character(s), Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina, Nara Shikaku/Nara Yoshino, Original Male Character & Hatake Sakumo, Original Male Character & Namikaze Minato, Original Male Character & Uchiha Fugaku & Hyuuga Hiashi, Uchiha Fugaku/Uchiha Mikoto, Yamanaka Inoichi/Original female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Plotting Amidst Headaches

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Androgynous Characters, Possible Hints of Slash, Canon Typical Violence, Clan Politics, Village Politics, Fugaku Being An Ass (a Cute Ass, but an Ass regardless), Hiashi Being Hiashi (Kami bless his twin), OC-Inserts, AU, Angst, Humor, Lil' bit of Romance (I guess, maybe a lot actually idk), Jiraiya (Need I say anymore?), Bullying, Language, Clan Claiming (like wtf this is my headcanon okay), Identity Crisis, etc.
> 
> Disclaimer: Kishimoto ain't my name, and his fucked up timeline is so not my game.

What is death?

Death is the final stage of one's life, be it animal or man. It is also what most people fear ( _coughVoldemortcough_ ), since Thanatophobia exists for a _reason_. And it's not simply anxiety over dying as well. Death can also be the being who takes people's souls when their time comes. Be it as the Death Reaper infamous to most fandoms, or maybe even that Greek god: Thanatos. You know, the one who has wings 'cause he's related to Hypnos? Anyone a Percy Jackson fan here? Anyone? No? Aww…

(No, Hades is _not_ the Greek god of Death. He's the Greek god of the Underworld, which is like his personal kingdom, with Thanatos—the _real_ Greek god of Death—as his Lieutenant or something. Its been too long since I've last read the series…)

So you might be wondering why some random person is asking about the definition of death. And before you ask— _no_ , I am not suicidal, a scientist, doctor, or even a philosopher. What, or rather, who am I?

…That's actually a pretty good question. _Hooray for existential crises!_

Ahem. _Anyway_ , the reason why I'm asking about death is, well…

Simply put, I died. Cause of death? I don't know.

What I _do_ know is that, for some _goddamn reason_ , I didn't stay dead like I'm supposed to. Or go to Heaven. Or Purgatory. Or Hell. Or get judged by three judges. Or have my heart weighed by—you get the point.

So while optimists would consider this as a good thing, me—being a realist bordering on pessimist—did not.

For one, I _died_. One second I was as healthy as the proverbial horse, the next I'm stuck in some kind of _limbo_.

Secondly, I didn't even get to say goodbye to my _family_. My family who, as crazy and dysfunctional as they are, depend on me as much as I depend on them. And guess what? My family consists of a little brother, a niece who I practically _raised from her diapers_ because of some nobody-sister of mine that I didn't even know existed, and the nice dance instructor from my niece's ballet classes.

I died at eighteen. Eighteen and I was _this_ _ **close**_ to getting my college diploma, and then it's too the godforsaken bar exam I go. But _noooo_ , because of some freak incident I don't even fucking remember, I _died_ and—

"Murasakiko? What's wrong, sweetie?"

I wanted to scream, I wanted to break something to bits and watch people _cower_ underneath my glare. But I can't since now I'm a damn _baby_ with shit vision, zero independence, hypersensitivity to almost _everything_ that so much as makes a sound or moves, and stuck in _Japan_ of all fucking places in the damn Earth.

Actually, I could scream. But I've been doing that for the past three hours and my throat hurts.

The one who spoke, somebody I mentally labeled as Brown Blob since that's all I could ever hope to see until my shitty eyesight gets better, was gentle when lifting me up from my cage—er, crib. As I have been getting used to for the last three weeks(? It's hard to keep track of time as a baby), Brown Blob cradled and rocked me to a lullaby she had started humming whilst rubbing circles on my back. Her attempt at calming the angry ball of _rage_ that is I was something I always marveled at. I'm pretty sure I broke or at least cracked glass from my high-pitched fit, yet here she is.

"Ah, there we go. Were you lonely, Murasakiko?" she cooed, making me sniff at my place on the crook of her neck. Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you happy, Brown Blob. She shifted, and her voice took a more solemn tone. "Was it because you miss your parents?"

I tried not to scoff at that. Whoever my sperm- and egg-donors are, I could care less. At least they had the decency to drop me off at an orphanage as opposed to some alleyway in a cardboard box.

A part of me was relieved that I didn't have a family here (wherever _here_ is), because the loss of my original family was too raw and new for me to even contemplate having _another_. While the Beausoleils were a family of choice and not blood, it was still my home. And I'd fight tooth or nail before letting anybody claim that title just because I came out of their fucking uterus.

Brown Blob was an exception, since she was the only decent caretaker in this orphanage. Salt-and-Pepper, some old guy who probably runs said orphanage, was another. But because I'm still annoyed at the name he gave me, he's blacklisted now.

Honestly, who names a _boy_ Murasakiko!?

* * *

"Murasakiko-chan, what do you have there?"

At the young age of two, I decided to give zero fucks to anybody who isn't from the orphanage. Which is everyone except the staff, volunteers, and my fellow orphans.

Which is why instead of acknowledging the young couple who were trying to get my attention for about half an hour since coming to the room dubbed by _moi_ as The Museum, I threw the plushed teddy I was fiddling with to an unsuspecting Kaito's brown mop of head. My aim struck true and, despite (or maybe because) being hit by something soft, the five year-old let out a battle cry and dragged the nearest toddlers surrounding him to World War III.

Diversion successfully initiated, I crawled away from the nonplussed couple (who were staring at the chaos with something akin to horrified awe) and parked my ass beside little Shinji, who was the resident sleepyhead from year one.

The tanned four year-old ( _and_ _a half_ , as he would claim) looked at the mayhem ensuing from the other side of the room, moved his gaze to my flat look, then obligingly rolled over to make space. With all the grace of someone who's had enough of this shit, I flopped on our shared pillow face-first, purple locks plastered all over.

"So dramatic, _imouto_ ," he teased, curling on my left as I let out a grunt that could be deciphered as 'meh' or 'go fuck a cactus'. It was a universally known fact in the Little Leaf Orphanage that I was a boy with a very 'cute' face and voice to boot. Add the fact that my name is generally used for girls (as most names ending with _ko_ does), and you get one pissed off twenty year-old in a child's body.

My 'siblings' often joked about it, but as it was in good humor and all that, I never retaliated unless they crossed the line.

(Like that one time when Salt-and-Pepper, aka Madoka-san, bought me a fucking _dress_ complete with frills and ribbons, I took great pleasure in trapping his room with glitter bombs and covered his clothes _and underwear_ with itchy powder worth two weeks)

Keiko-nee, aka Brown Blob (and the Mom in our orphanage), would despair at another failed attempt of 'introducing me to a good family' by the time she got back from grocery shopping, but she should know best that I was a bastard to anyone who thinks that they can just barge in here and take away _my_ 'siblings' like this is some pet store.

So what if I was possessive? I've been stripped away from a good life without any warning whatsoever, and I wasn't overbearing like some of the so-called 'moms' that visited every second Friday of the month, pinching our cheeks and _baby-talking_ to us like we couldn't understand what the fuck they were saying. Also, my siblings didn't mind. The older ones called it 'adorable', while the rare younger ones were too, well, _young_ to even catch a glimpse of my scowl (and no, it is _not_ a damn pout, Jiro!).

Shinji brushed off some of my hair that was in the way with an ease that bellied how many times I've done this particular stunt, and I didn't need to look up to see the glare he's sending the couple who had just noticed my disappearing act. Poor environmental awareness and easily distracted? Yeah, they're not getting _anyone_ as soon as Shinji says something about it.

I must've power-napped a few minutes after that (damn weak body), because the next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a gaggle of sleeping kiddies lying on top of skewed futons and wrestling against blankets that enveloped everybody. From what little I could see, that is. Shinji was still at my left, looking for all the world that he wasn't being squished by the orange-haired twins, Ran and Ren, with the latter drooling on his hair. On my right, I could distinctively feel a much larger body pressed against me, and since they smelled of soy sauce and candy, it's safe for me to say that Nami-nee had come home from her apprenticeship at the tailor's.

Nami-nee was thirteen and in That Age where boys were 'hot' since her hormones are going wacky. Though I'll admit, she's a decent cook with steady hands, enabling her to score a place in Ryuko-san's shop three blocks to the left. I guess it helped that she had pretty auburn hair that fell down her back in waves, too. To attract customers and whatnot.

She's also apparently dead to the world 'cause I can't get her arm off my back without resorting to more harsh means. Was learning how to stitch and/or sew that tiring? _Ughhh_.

Grumbling mentally at the unfairness of the world, I wiggled out of her grasp downwards and—after nearly kicking Fuji (who, for some reason, decided that laying just below our legs was _safe_ and _comfortable_ ) and making a ruckus—cheered quietly when I managed to escape The Museum in record time. Without anyone waking up.

Three gold stars for the botched reincarnation!

Padding softly across the orphanage's halls, I peeked into the neighboring rooms and wrinkled my nose when I saw not a single soul in sight. Where did everybody go?

Feeling more than a little stumped, I was about to climb the stairs (a very atrocious path for a toddler with shaky legs) when—

"— _pologize, but—"_

"— _ildren! You can't possibly—"_

"— _wara-san! Lower your voice or—"_

Interest piqued, I tiptoed towards the source of the hushed whispers, my ears leading me to the dining room (which is more of a Mess Hall, really) where all of the missing staff were circling the ongoing cat-fight: Sanada-oji versus Keiko-nee, a match made in hell because _damn_ were those two passionate with their respective roles.

Keiko-nee was a petite brunette who looked way younger than the average twenty-one year-old, and she was a volunteer who soon became a full-time staff in the Little Leaf Orphanage, as well as the unspoken head of the Nursery Section. Sanada-oji, on the other hand, was a large man who was every inch a cuddly bear. Scary-looking with the scars on his arms and permanent forehead wrinkles, but with a heart that went out for the angsty teenagers who were unfortunate enough to not be adopted from a younger age.

So, yeah. Seeing two of the nicest staff arguing with neither backing down? Absolutely _horrifying_.

Clamping my mouth shut, I evened my breathing and tilted my head to the side to better hear their conversation. And I almost wished I didn't.

"—have no choice but to agree to his terms, Keiko," that was Sanada-oji, voice clear but with an undercurrent of anger and sadness that I immediately hated. I could see how his scowl deepen, not out of anger, but of worry. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, a defensive position if I ever saw one. But why?

Keiko-nee (whose back was all I could see from my vantage point) raised a hand, maybe to slap some sense into her senpai or give him the finger (though I doubt that), before visibly straining and her hand fell limply to her side. Her head bowed, and I could faintly make out the tremors on her shoulders and—oh, she's crying.

(I ignored the voice at the back of my head that shrieked at me to run over and break my cover because _nee-san was crying_ —)

"…why does it have to be them?" She whispered, voice cracking at the end. It made my heart clench painfully and my own eyes sting. Damn baby hormones! Sniffling, she cried out much louder than before, "Why would Danzo-sama pick _children_?"

It was then and there did something went _crack_ in my mind.

(Later, much later in the future, I would realize that it was my sanity that went _crack_ )

Dread pooled my stomach, and white noise buzzed around my eardrums. For a moment, I considered making a break for it. To go back to The Museum and sleep it off, then wake up and everything would be just the same as it was before. To wake up from this (nightmare _ality_ ) and pretend that everything was a-okay.

But I couldn't, and my feet refused to budge.

(Reality went _crack_ , the illusion went _crack_ , and my life went—)

"Murasakiko?"

Numbly, I looked up, and saw Keiko-nee's red and puffy eyes stare down at me in horror.

Like a child that my body showed I am, I slowly raised my arms out and whimpered, "I had abad dream."

Relief colored Keiko-nee's hazel eyes, which was soon drowned by guilt and despair and hope and love and _I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry_ , and she carried me like she did two years ago. Like I was a newborn screaming bloody murder for anyone that could hear, and only she had the guts to try and give me comfort.

Resting my pounding head at her shoulder and nosing the crook of her neck, I failed to see the sorrowful gazes that watched on as Keiko-nee brokenly hummed the lullaby that never failed to soothe my aching soul.

(They failed to see that it didn't work, and the white-knuckled grip I had on Keiko-nee's shirt)

* * *

I couldn't sleep.

Lying down on my futon, bracketed by my siblings from the ages of two to five, I stared at the wooden ceiling above me.

I managed to pretend that everything was normal, though my being more subdued and clingier were passed off as the effect of my nightmare, and I relished in the extra attention everybody showered me with just as much as I loathed the steel grip fear had on my gut.

Danzo. I knew that name. Shimura Danzo, an elder and one of the strongest shinobi that Konoha has ever produced, hailing from Sarutobi Hiruzen's era from when the First Shinobi War was ongoing, and one of the aforementioned man's teammate with as much as (if not more) political and militaristic sway as the Hokage held.

He was also the head of ROOT, a motherfucker who made a child kill his own family, stole and kidnapped children as much as he hoarded powerful techniques, all for the sake of Konoha's _Greater Good_.

It was an understatement to say that he sickened me. It was also hard to find the suitable word fo describe what I was feeling right now.

On one hand, I now knew where I was reborn and had the foreknowledge to navigate my way through this second life. On the other, my orphanage is likely one of the 'hotspots' where demented warhawks take children from to build up the ranks of his private army. Children who were my very own siblings and _they had no idea_.

It was a no-brainer that I'd rather die (again) than hand over my family without putting up a fuss, but what could I—a two year-old _civilian_ without any prestige or reputation—possibly do to expose his clusterfuck of a 'vision'?

The answer? Nothing.

For now, that is.

What I _could_ do was plot. Plot and have contingency plans from A-Z, and start on making myself fit for the Academy because that was where I'll start. Or rather, find out a way to train myself without attracting any attention and not out myself as a prodigy and get sent out to the frontlines, or worse, get _recruited_ to the Boogeyman's army.

But how? And what about my siblings?

Gnawing my lower lip, my purple eyes flickered to my surroundings, ears picking up the tell-tale signs of breathing and snores that broke the silence every minute or so.

I could, theoretically, train them as well. But I had to be _discreet_ enough that nobody could tell I _was_ training them, and important enough that they'd continue doing it even without me.

Eyebrows furrowed, I massaged my forehead as vainly as I could to ease the migraine I had subjected myself to, and continued brainstorming until the sky turned lighter with false-dawn.

When Keiko-nee went up to wake us all up, it was to see me glaring holes onto my slumbering siblings, and she didn't notice the the fatigue lining my form.

* * *

.

It hit me when I was washing the dishes. So suddenly that I almost dropped the plate I was rinsing to hold up a finger and shout _Eureka_!

I could train them via _chores_. Chores that would steadily increase as they grow older, and would become more difficult while making sure that everyone would continue doing it because it was _needed_.

And if I remember correctly, it would give them enough experience and knowledge to survive the D-ranks.

Stifling a grin, I hummed underneath my breath as I continued attacking the dirty dishes accumulated from today's breakfast with vigor.

* * *

"Ne, Nami-nee?"

"Hm?"

"Is fixing clothes hard?"

Snipping a thread quickly, Nami-nee glanced at curious little me and smiled. "Sometimes, especially when brats like you play around too much."

Blinking innocently up at her, I mused loudly to 'myself', "Then Nami-nee must be _amazing_ 'cause she always fixes our clothes, right?" Grinning widely at the looks we were receiving from our siblings, I continued, "Much more amazing than buying stuff, 'cause that way we can save more money and buy more food to cook!"

As expected, more and more of our siblings gathered to _ohh_ and _ahh_ at Nami-nee's sewing expertise, and some were already begging her to teach them, much to the auburnette's pleased embarrassment.

After wrangling out a promise from Nami-nee for her to hold sewing classes every Thursday afternoon, I left feeling absurdly smug and proud of myself.

I continued praising my family's skills, all wide-eyed and sincerely thankful for their efforts in making our lives as comfortable as they could—Shigure-oji's cooking skills, Toya's creative craftmanship, Sengoku-jiji's carpentry, Mizumi-nee's cleaning magic, and much, much more.

By the end of the day, Madoka-san had to draw up a schedule to keep track of the impromptu classes that I spurred, and I had never been so exhilarated to see a piece of paper stuck on the dining room's wall.

* * *

Winter came and, as the seventh of January snuck up behind me, it was with great surprise in my part that I was now three years-old.

Gifts were given, most of which were handmade and fruits of my siblings' time in the orphanage's classes, and I was not ashamed to say that my favorite was the fluffy blanket the Sewing Class made (which was really shocking, because _I_ was part of that class and never noticed!). Since we didn't have Christmas and only celebrated New Year, I had gleefully taken advantage of my status as Orphanage Sweetheart and handed out _my_ gifts to everyone I could get my hands on.

Resin was pretty easy to get here in Konoha, since this village was called _Hidden in the Leaves_ for a reason, and I had painstakingly harvested enough tree sap to make transparent charms holding a strand of my hair positioned like a spiral behind the leaves or sakura petals in it. Resin was actually difficult to harden, since you have to make sure _every drop_ was mixed well to avoid cracks, and there was the part where I had to do this in the attic to avoid being found out (though I'm pretty sure Toya, our resident craftsman, knew I was up to something since I had to borrow some of his tools) and collecting enough resin for thirty-two people without raising flags.

(I'm also certain that my resin-harvesting frenzy was seen by _at least_ a shinobi or two. There was this shinobi—an Inuzuka, judging by the blood red marks on his cheeks and fanged grin—who actually humored me and stood on lookout for any of my wayward family members, and alerted me via whistling sharply. I have a charm for him, to be honest. As a token of my appreciation, and all that)

Then I had to find something sturdy enough to serve as the charms' 'chain', which was solved when Nami-nee didn't notice the missing cords (thin enough to be dismissed, but thick enough to be sturdy) from her sewing kit, probably thinking it was the younger kiddies.

The cords were tied in a knot that could be loosened or tightened, and I was satisfied with how my homemade amulets turned out to be.

The amulets were actually just that, amulets. It had no frame, leaving the charm bare and vulnerable, but I had thickened the resin so that all of the charms were at least thick and hard enough to withstand a few accidental knocks or throws. For the boys, I picked up small, fallen leaves (ranging from green to brown and red) as the design inside, while the girls had sakura blossoms large enough to hide the lavender lock inside the resin.

You may be wondering why I put strands of my hair in the charms like an idiot, right? Well, from my fuzzy memories of _Naruto_ , I remember Ino using her hair to trap Sakura during the preliminary exams, which meant that chakra could be channeled to any part of one's body so long as it's yours. Therefore, I'm lead to believe that, if the time comes when that Bastard would come swooping in to steal my siblings from me, I could track them down or—if I, for some strange reason that would hopefully never happen, because it would imply that I'd be _too late_ —use it as evidence against Danzo for kidnapping orphans.

Of course, there's the possibility that Danzo would strip them from anything sentimental, but Sai _still_ had his sketchpad from his older brother (bless those children) despite being a successful ROOT Operative in his own right, and I _will_ cling to that little tidbit until it proves me wrong.

Back to my birthday party, everyone was overjoyed to receive such thoughtful gifts from the birthday boy himself, and I'll admit to feeling just a tad _shy_ over the sheer giddiness they exuded. Just a bit, because like hell am I gonna say no to compliments. Good thing I don't get a big ego so easily. Nope! My past life had made me firmly grounded to reality, even if this one breaks the laws of physics for fun.

* * *

Later that night, I tested my theory by sending a light pulse of chakra in an echo-like way.

Numerous sapphire blue dots lit up, unknown to anyone but my smug as fuck self.

 _Take that, Danzo_.


	2. Who Let The Dogs Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woof.

So, tracking down an Inuzuka to give him a charm would be easy enough to do because of their clan marks and general boisterousness, right ? Hahahahaha, _no_.

It isn't. It really, really isn't.

_Trust me._

Winter in Konoha was rarely cold enough for snowstorms or hail to come and drop by, but for wee little three year-old me who was clad in hand-me-downs restitched to fit my frame better, it was fucking _freezing_.

The coat I was wearing wasn't enough to shut out the chill that permeated the usually sunny skies, clouds covering the expanse above me to release tiny snowflakes and generally make me sneeze every three minutes, and I was wearing two thick sweaters below that. _Two_! And my pants were so big that Keiko-nee had to find a pretty thick belt to hold it up, lest I risk getting frostbites in the no-no area. And the boots Satoru-nii had splurge on in a 'whim' were already crunching snow about _four inches-deep_.

Four inches! And I wasn't even in _Europe!_

Resolving to find a trick that would warm me up _regardless_ of what I was wearing (because surely shinobis have a trick like that, right? Open-toed shoes are no fun when they give you literal cold feet), I trudged down the little hill of collected snow—probably remains of what was previously a snow fort or something—that blocked my path, letting out a small sound of triumph when I got down without falling on my ass.

Continuing my quest to find the missing Inuzuka, I—

_(Fireandash a spark of lightinggiddyhyper hidden underneath flowersandsmilesassharpasakatana—)_

—what the actual **fuck**.

Coming to an abrupt stop, I looked around me to see if… well, if there was something that shouldn't be there. Rows upon rows of shops greeted me, with a few people milling about: grandmothers accompanied by their probably-grandchildren, neighboring wives gossiping about the latest bolt of silk they've bought from the Land of Something-I-Don't-Know-About, children throwing snowballs and running away when they missed, that random shinobi saying _fuck you_ to gravity a la rooftop-hopping, and some people from the bigshot clans like the Nara and Akimichi.

In short, I have no fucking idea what I was looking for.

The (feeling _tingle_ sensation) was a surprise, but it was an unknown that could possibly kill me if I so much as blinked the wrong way. In a village ruled by the God of Shinobi, pretty much anything can happen to me and nobody would bat an eye. I was just some lowly civilian, after all.

( _And besides_ , the cynic part of my brain started. _We're at war, what's one more life amongst a hundred more?_ )

Shaking both that thought and the feeling from before away, I focused on my original task and found myself hovering around the Inuzuka Compound.

_(Rainandmoistearth a chill of freezingwateranddarkthunder with a spot of brightlaughterandink—)_

( _Ignore it,_ my survival instinct shrieked)

It was hard to do so, but I managed.

The Inuzuka Clan was traditional in a non-stuffy way, if _that_ was possible. The walls weren't as tall as I expected, which was actually more practical than hazardous because of their heightened sense of smell and hearing, and were for decoration (I think). The roofs that sloped downward were a bit displaced because of one reason or another—highly possibly because of some of the more energetic ninken pups, judging by the muddy pawprints outside—and there was a guard with his partner slouched against the only visible gate.

He was tall and stocky, with the air of someone who would rather be anywhere _but_ where he was right now, and had a mane of ebony hair crazier than Tsume's in the future. His clan markings were deep and bold—bolder than the Inuzuka's who helped me—while the corners of his eyes had both laugh and stress marks, a trait seen all over his scowling face. He had a scratchy goatee that was trimmed half-heartedly, eye bags deeper than my coat pockets, and generally looked like someone who wouldn't humor anyone. Which sucks.

For him at least. Because if there was one thing I carried from both lives, it was ridiculous amounts of pure _stubbornness_.

(Somewhere in the confines of my—admittedly—less-than-sane mind, a snort echoed)

"Hi," I chirped, then waved at the dog-wolf curled around the Inuzuka's legs like a particularly vicious-looking rug. The dog-wolf was at least two feet taller than me if he (she?) stood on (you know what, I'mma use neutral pronouns) their hind-legs, not counting their bushy tail, with a fur coat that looked strikingly like the midnight sky. If the midnight sky had sharp teeth, a half-cut left ear, a Glasgow's grin that revealed their muzzle's right side, and can and will kill me before I could even say, _nya_.

The dog-wolf was also looking at me like one would to a butterfly: interesting, but easily killed. Or I was projecting, and my thoughts were _so_ not helping me right now.

Tilting my head curiously at the beast regarding me, I blinked when they copied my action and made a noise between _what_ and _huh_. So really, all that came out of me was something like this, "Bwuh?"

The Inuzuka snorted (louder than the one in my mind. And meaner, too), snapping me out of my staring contest with his partner.

"What're you doin' here, kid?" he said in lieu of greeting, shoving his (I managed to sneak a quick peek when I was approaching him) burnt hands in the pockets of his shinobi-grade pants. Over his navy blue long-sleeves, his Chuunin—or was it Jounin? I can't really tell—vest was faded, but I was sure it was filled with neat stuff. Like, tiny-weapons-that-can-go- _ **BOOM**_ neat stuff.

Wow, I really need to put a filter in my thoughts because _they aren't really helping me_.

"I'm looking for someone," I answered, not bothering to fake a lisp most children my age would have. If he noticed my fluency in the syllabic-migraine that was Japanese (though I heard Chinese was harder…), he didn't let it show and instead raised an eyebrow. "He helped me a lot, and I wanted to give him a thank-you gift."

"Any idea who you're lookin' for?" Huh, he didn't tell me to scram like I half-expected him to. Oh, well. Maybe he's nicer than he looks?

"Not really, " I admitted, my right foot hitting the snow-laden ground in a quiet _thump-thump_. "I only know that he has his hair tied like a rat's tail and grins a lot." The guard looked at me blankly, and I elaborated, "Like a _really_ toothy-grin. Kinda like this—" I pulled up my best Inuzuka-grin, which was actually doable since I had baby canines (aka small teeth that look a little pointed. Like soft triangles). "—and he can whistle this really high-pitched sound which kinda makes my ears ring and—"

"Stop," the guardsman (guardsshinobi? Do shinobis even _need_ guards?) cut me off, holding up a hand and accidentally showing me a really gruesome scar that— _holy shit_ , did somebody hammer a nail through his palm or what!? "What whistle? Can you show me?"

Distracted as I was about _shinobi being crucified as a torture method_ because that was so **wrong** in all kinds of ways, I didn't notice the dog-wolf standing up until a slightly-wet something hit my tummy gently.

Which, by what I meant _gently_ in Inuzuka ninken standards, was enough to make me fall on my back like a domino.

Yelping in surprise, I stared at the dog-wolf whose furry head appeared within my line of sight, obscuring the fluffy clouds that continued dropping snow like nobody's business. One snowflake landed on my nose, and I sneezed.

Right in front of the dog-wolf.

Then the _dog-wolf_ sneezed. And they got this really confused expression on their muzzle, like they were wondering why the hell they _sneezed_.

A giggle escaped my mouth before I even realized it.

The dog-wolf gave me an unamused look (how do I even _know_ that? Instinct?), then they opened their mouth to drag their tongue all over my face.

 _Ewwwww!_ Also, that tickled!

"Stop that!" I demanded, giving them my most disapproving frown. Then I flailed my arms around because they wouldn't _stop slobbering me_! What the fuck happened to the scary dog-wolf that guarded the great gates of the Inuzuka Compound!?

(" _You_ happened," a certain teammate of mine would answer in the future, before abruptly falling face-first on the ground because I was a petty little shit)

"Hey, mister guard!" I shouted, trying to escape the Nose of Tickling. The damn Inuzuka had the _gall_ to look like he was trying hard not to bust a gut. _Jerk_. "Help me over here!"

"Why should I? You two look like you're havin' fun."

And, yeah. Being tickled by a giant doggo _was_ fun. But not in the snow!

"It's cold out here!"

"I can see that."

I glared darkly at the motherfucking bastard, the effect ruined with my purple hair curling in ridiculous directions from the dog-wolf's 'kisses' and my flushed face. It was _cold_ , okay!? And my face being wet only invited _more_ cold!

As if hearing my thoughts, the dog-wolf stopped and stared at my less-than-pleased expression, before unceremoniously closing their jaw on the back of my collar and jumped over the wall and _goddamnit this isn't how I imagined dying again!_

But my (kidnapper? Dognapper?) didn't stop there. Oh, _no_. Because that would be too _easy_ , wouldn't it?

I mentally screamed my lungs off while biting my knuckles as I was dragged along an impromptu roof-hopping trip, courtesy of my kidnapper, who was _speeding_ along the roofs like they were on solid ground and not _six feet-high in the fucking_ _ **air**_ _._

Praying to whatever god made me reincarnate in this damn village, I hope that at I'll at least die quickly this time around.

( _This time_? What does that—)

"Oh, hey there, Aoma—what the _heck_!?"

Thrown (like, _fwoom_!) on somebody's lap like an errant pup, I toppled over a wide chest with an _oof_ that was muffled by something that felt like a kimono-top.

"The hell, Aomaru?" A voice above me muttered, making the chest I was smushed on vibrate with each word that was said. Large hands then steadied me by holding my tiny waist, and I was adjusted promptly so I was _leaning_ againstthe mystery person's chest instead. It was then I noticed that _damn_ this person's legs were long 'cause I may not be the biggest kid in the orphanage, but I could drag three of my younger siblings to join me here and still have some space left!

Also, why am I surrounded by fucking titans? Just, _why_?

(When I grow up, I _will_ get taller. Just you wait, you damn beanpoles!)

Tilting my head backwards, I saw curious brown eyes looking down at me expectantly. It wasn't until I saw the person's grin did I recognize who the dog-wolf (Aomaru?) had brought me to.

"Ah! It's you!" Yeah, pretty lame response to finally finding the little shit, huh? Actually— "Where _were_ you? I've been looking for you _every_ where!"

Well, maybe not everywhere. Just the past five shopping districts, six parks, three playgrounds, and at least seven training grounds (which included, but was not limited to: dodging wayward kunai, feeling dizzy from the number of handsigns I could barely _see_ , looking out for leftover shuriken, and etc.) that didn't even _begin_ to cover up half of Konoha.

What did I say? I was _stubborn_. And dammit, I wanna thank the nice Inuzuka, okay!?

The Inuzuka (I should really get his name) gaped, like he wasn't expecting my outburst, before guffawing loudly with his head thrown back and shoulders shaking. It made him seem more animalistic—teeth bared for the world to see, clan marks stretched widely, and hair strangely loose—but more _natural_ at the same time. Like the uniform-wearing Inuzuka who helped me was just a bit… _off_. Kinda dimmed in comparison to my still-laughing companion.

Whatever it was, I'm glad he seemed happy. Well, happi _er_.

Now if I can only get his name…

"Oh, man." He snickered one last time, wiping away an imaginary tear. His eyes crinkled to a close as his grin _brightened_. Like, turned-up-the-light-settings-too-high-on-your-phone-and-now-you're-screeching-like-a-vampire bright. "I needed that, kid. Thanks."

Blinking, I dumbly nodded. Then, "Actually, I should be thanking you. Y'know, for the whole…" I gestured vaguely in the air, making him snicker none-too-quietly. "'S why I've been searching for you."

"Really, now?" He asked, raising a brow. He leaned back on his palms, looking for all of the world that having some kid _plopped_ on your lap was an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was. Who knows what crazy shit these shinobis are up to? "Well, now you've found me. What now?"

" _Now_ , I give you this." Digging through my coat pockets, I showed him an amulet of his own: simple, not framed, and with a leaf hiding a lock of my hair. While it was highly unlikely for _him_ to disappear off the face of the earth, I might need his help in the future. And to get him to help, I needed to know _where the fuck he is_. So there.

Instead of accepting my token of appreciation, he just… stared. Like, full wide-eyed-and-speechless kind of stared. He was also gaping again. Like a fish.

"Uh…" I started. "You okay? Need some help wearing it?"

Startling out from whatever funk he was in, he shook his head and carefully, _carefully_ took it from my outstretched hand. Like it was made out of glass or somethin'. Weird.

"N-No," he replied. Then, inhaling deeply, continued, "I'm just—er, you're a civilian, yeah?" Nodding, he let out a sigh and chuckled. "Ah, I figured. A shinobi wouldn't be caught gathering _resin_ out of all things in broad-daylight, after all. Even one in training."

Cheeks puffing up in indignation, I twisted around so my whole body was facing him and yelled, "So what? It was for my damn family, you _weirdo_ ," his jaw dropped, slack. Giving him no time to answer, I bulldozed all over his probably-words and said, " _And_ I'm gonna be one of the _sneakiest_ shinobi one day! So sneaky that you'll never feel me coming 'til I kick the shit outta ya in your own goddamn home!"

Having said my piece, I picked myself up and stomped away with all the righteous fury a three year-old could muster. And let me tell you, it was a _lot_.

Finding myself in some hallway, I find myself greeted with the sight of the very same fucker that didn't even _help_ me during the great Dog Kidnaps Child shenanigans (because a grown shinobi like him could surely keep up with the dog-wolf, ninken or not) and stuck my nose up in the air with a _hmph_ as I ignored him.

"Hey, wait—"

" _Don't_ you **dare** follow me. Or I will scream bloody _murder_." Holding his gaze to make my message clear, I held a finger up to make him stop moving, and inched away around a corner until he was out of my sights.

After that, I left the Inuzuka Compound without bumping into anyone else in a stroke of good luck, and after giving the the dog-wolf who had, inadvertently, helped me hunt down my goal some head pats, ran the _fuck_ away.

Fit of anger or not, Inuzukas were pretty hard-headed shits. And I do _not_ want to run into Plot as early as my kiddie years. Guess I'll have to park my ass in the orphanage for the unforeseeable future.

 _Ugh_.

* * *

It wasn't until I was preparing to hunker down to sleep that I realized something.

I _still_ didn't know his name!

Smothering my face with a pillow, I groaned unintelligibly and loudly, making more than a few of my siblings shoot me curious looks.

"What's wrong, Murasakiko?" Ren asked, with Ran poking me at my side. "Yeah, yeah. What's wrong, Murasakiko? What's wrong?"

Waving them off, I breathed out heavily.

Damn Inuzukas and their damn ninkens.

* * *

Of course, I wasn't just sitting idly at home.

If I want to become a shinobi, I had to train myself a bit more obviously. Or, well, as obvious as one can in the bathroom.

One of the most important things in a shinobi's arsenal is their jutsus. And jutsus need chakra-control to be executed with as little amount of wasted chakra as possible. Being a civilian, I had a slightly lower than average chakra pool, but that was fine. With chakra-control, Sakura became the second Tsunade. With chakra-control, one can heal wounds and mend bones. With chakra-control, the most basic of all basic jutsus can be used to the fullest.

With chakra-control, even a weak little kid like me could do _so much_.

I practiced first on the walls, with the bathtub as a cushion of sorts. Since I was practicing in the orphanage, it was only a matter of time until one of them discovered my training, so I told one of my older siblings first before attempting wall-walking.

Needless to say, my audience was more than a little excited.

"You know how to walk on _walls_?" Was Hikari-nee's awed whisper. Well, in as much as a stage-whisper could be a whisper. She was a petite blonde with he hair cut in a short bob, green eyes shining with amazement. Due to my being a kid with frankly little to no libido despite being a twenty-one year-old mentally, we bathed together. Usually, we would bathe in groups to save water, but since we were the last ones for tonight and the water's cold, we were alone for my training. "How?"

Grunting from the task at hand, I shakily took another step forward and answered, "Watched some of the— _shit_ —the shinobis and—" mumbling another curse when I nearly slipped, I trudged on, "—guessed. 'S not that hard to figure out."

Making an _ohhhh_ sound, Hikari-nee quieted down, allowing me to focus on my endeavor better.

In the anime, Sakura had said that you needed to be calm. And she was right. You had to gather chakra down to the soles of your feet and make it _stay_ there. And when you place one foot after the other, you had to spread your chakra on the pores of the surface to make yourself _stick_. Like Spiderman.

(Unbidden, another memory of another spider flits through my mind. With it comes the impressions of muffins and tea and laughter ominously ringing in my head)

Mentally taking a note on studying about chakra strings, I went back to wall-walking and inhaled.

Three more years until the Academy. Three more years until it all comes to a circle.

Three more years.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my account in Ffnet.


End file.
